


THE LAST RHYME

by Anatropes



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fantasy, Flash Fiction, Horror, Magic, Original Fiction, Original work - Freeform, Other, Scary, Short One Shot, Short Story, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 08:20:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatropes/pseuds/Anatropes
Summary: They used to be a rumor, a folk tale, the ghostly voices of children singing coming from the depths of the marshes.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	THE LAST RHYME

**Author's Note:**

> This is an old story I had laying around for a long time. I actually forgot about it and found it when I was backing up some files. I thought maybe someone might enjoy it.

_“Don’t go into the marshes,  
Monsters lurk in the murk!  
And if a child the monsters snatch,  
It will break their mother’s heart!”_

I shivered and wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders as the children’s nursery rhyme turned to giggles and faded into the usual quiet of the marshes. Now only the bugs, resuming their own song, and the creaking of my rocking chair disturbed the night. I scanned the darkness beyond my porch and hoped I had heard that rhyme for the last time.

I knew it well. We all learned it as children and later taught it to our own children. When I was a child, we’d hold hands and spin around, singing it as loud as we could, spinning faster and faster until we fell down giggling. As I grew older and heard the stories, I no longer found any amusement in our nursery rhyme. However, it wasn’t until I became a Watcher that I came to dread it with all my heart.

I take my duties very seriously. I check the wards every day to make sure nothing from those marshes gets past me and into the village. I patrol my area often to make sure no children try to sneak into the marsh. Unfortunately, the Watchers can’t always stop a child bent on mischief and that’s how we came to have those horrible stories.

They used to be a rumor, a folk tale, the ghostly voices of children singing coming from the depths of the marshes. The few that heard it, back when it was a rare phenomenon, ventured in to find these lost children, but none that ventured in ever came back out. The last couple of years, however, more and more Watchers have heard them singing, and now it’s almost a nightly occurrence. Not that the villagers know that, we avoid telling them. Most folk still believe them to be the ghosts of children lost, to tell them how often we hear them would be inviting trouble and more lost souls. Especially with those who lost a child to the marshes.

I don’t believe those eerie and unreasonably cheerful voices are the trapped souls of our children. I believe it’s something darker and much more sinister trying to lure us into the marsh, or worse lure more of our children.

“Please, help me.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, frantically looking about for the owner of the voice. A girl, no more than ten, stood in the light cast by my cabin’s window. She wore a plain brown dress and no shoes, her hair a tangled mess around her shoulders. “By the gods, child! What are you doing out here at this hour?”

Her eyes welled up with tears and I noticed that she was shaking. “I can’t find my way home. Please, help me.”

I didn’t know the child, but then I haven’t been visiting the village very often, and children in the village avoided Watchers. We were the scary people chasing them back to the village when they came near the marshes. Witches, I heard some called us.

I took a few steps closer to the girl but did not leave the safety of my porch. Like the marsh’s perimeter, I had warded my house against anything unnatural. “Come then, let’s get you warmed up and fed, in the morning I’ll take you to the village and they’ll help you find your home.”

I watched carefully as the girl hesitated on the first step leading up to the porch, but as she set her foot down on the rough wood and there were no flashes or explosions from my wards, I let out a silent sigh of relief. I removed the shawl around my shoulders and wrapped the child in it. When I touched her skin it felt cold and clammy. I ushered her inside my cabin and sat her in front of the fireplace, I added more wood until the fire burned high and hot, then turned my attention back to the girl.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I took one of her small hands in mine, rubbing it gently to warm it up. Like her dress, her eyes and hair were an earthly brown.

“Persephone.”

“That’s a lovely name. Are you hungry, Persephone?”

She smiled, nodding, and once I made sure she was comfortable and warm I went about making a late dinner. “How did you end up out here, alone?”

“My father, he told me to go ahead and he would soon follow.”

I waited a moment but she didn’t offer more details. “So, you went ahead and got lost? Strayed off the path?”

She nodded again and I bent my head down to my work so as not to let her see the frown of disapproval on my face. What sort of father sends a child off on its own, especially around here?  
I tossed a couple of generous slices of bacon in the frying pan and put thick, buttered slices of bread next to the fire. As the tantalizing aroma spread into the small cabin the girl began to swing her legs and hum. I couldn’t help but shiver when I recognized the nursery rhyme but I was also glad for the color on her cheeks and that she finally felt safe enough to make some noise, as children should, even if it was that dreadful rhyme.

We ate in silence and later I spoke of things that didn’t matter until the child fell asleep, curled up on a soft rug in front of the fireplace. I put a blanket over her and went to sleep in my cot, every bone in my body complaining for the long day and late night.

I don’t know what woke me, but she was standing over me with my knife, ready to strike. I gasped and the knife came down. Somehow, I moved out of its way and took hold of the girl’s wrist. She bared her teeth in frustration and her other hand came up to my face, trying to scratch at my eyes. I turned my face away but not before a sharp, burning pain spread down my nose and right cheek. On her second attempt for my eyes, I managed to grab her other wrist as well.

I twisted and thrashed as I struggled with something too strong to be a child. It’s strange, at first I thought it was her that screamed and cried but then I realized it was actually me. Sobbing and screaming like some helpless child while she, she was quiet, intent on her attempt to kill me.

Our eyes met and she smiled, nothing ever put fear in my heart as much as that smile did at that moment. It was the ghastly smile of death but I had no intentions of succumbing to it. I pushed back with strength I didn’t know I possessed and wedged one of my legs between us. I firmly planted my foot on her stomach and kicked out as hard as I could. She might’ve been stronger than a child but she was still as small as one.

She stumbled backward fast and tripped over my chair, the momentum carried her over the chair and rolled her into the fireplace. Her hair and dress caught fire like dry kindling. She started screaming, a high-pitched scream so shrill that it hurt my ears. I tried to cover my ears with my hands but the noise just kept rising and rising as she wriggled on the floor. There was another loud, sharp noise and I was showered with shards of glass. The only window of my small cabin had shattered.

I jumped out of my cot looking for my knife, trying to focus my mind despite the ringing pain in my ears, but as I did so the burning girl sprang to her feet as well and dashed out the window.  
I hurried after her, throwing open the door and nearly falling as I missed a step going down the porch stairs. I could still hear her shrill cries and as I ran out to about the middle of my yard. I could see her, a running column of fire, already too far for me to attempt to catch up to her.

She was heading for the marshes and I stood there with my hands over my chest, staring, waiting, hoping for the telltale flash of the wards, which I had checked just that afternoon, activating. Nothing happened. She crossed and disappeared into the marshes and my wards did NOTHING. Even a broken ward should have given a token effort of stopping her, unless she was human, and I knew for a fact she was not human as I knew for a fact none of those wards were broken. I looked back at the cabin, then at the marshes, and back to my cabin. None of my wards worked. I hurried and checked the wards around my house, they were all as they should be, not one seemed tampered with.

The implications of what that meant snapped me out of my stupor and I hurried back inside. Thankfully the cabin itself didn’t look in danger of going up in flames. I lit up my lantern and found my knife, only then I noticed the blood on my arm. It seems her first strike with my knife didn’t miss me as I had thought; I had a gash on my upper arm, but nothing too serious. I touched my face and felt the angry welts there; she had barely missed my right eye. Another pain drew my attention and I looked down at my feet. I had walked through the glass and then outside, my feet were covered with blood and mud but I had no time to take care of myself.

I grabbed the lantern, forgoing shoes, or clothes and stepped out into the night wearing only my bloodied nightgown. I held the lantern over my head and began the long trek toward the village. My pain only fueled my need for urgency. I had to tell them what took place here tonight. I had to warn them that there was something in the marshes that the wards couldn’t stop.

_“Don’t go into the marshes,  
Monsters lurk in the murk!  
And if a child the monsters snatch,  
It will break their mother’s heart!”_

The voices sounded louder than ever and I knew, this time I knew for sure, that these were not the ghosts of lost children singing. It was evil and it was coming in the form of a child, the only thing that would make any human drop their guard.  
The villagers needed to know, they needed to know NOW.

_“Lady of the marshes.  
Warder! Witch!  
What if a monster snatches you?  
Who will then weep for you?”_

The new rhyme stopped me in my tracks. I stood frozen, barely breathing, listening, and then I heard a giggle right behind me.  
I started running. I thought I heard the noise of footsteps behind me, right on my heels. My fleeing was manic, reckless, I was sure something was trying to grab hold of my nightgown.  
I tripped and fell hard, my lantern flying from my hand and crashing against a rock. There was a flash of light as the oil spilled and caught fire. I looked behind me and saw child-shaped shadows scattering away from the light. They had been so close.

I whimpered, clawed, and kicked the earth beneath me until I managed to find my feet. I sped through the spreading flames and continued my mad run.  
I don’t know how but suddenly the village was there before me. I had covered the distance in what seemed days and just minutes at the same time. The sky was just blushing from the rising sun, so I must’ve been running for an hour at least.

I frantically looked around for the Watchers bell tower. There! I stumbled to it, sobbing from relief and exhaustion. My hand trembled as I reached for the rope. I only had to ring the bell and the villagers would come. I would tell them what happened and all would be well, we would find a way to make it so.

Something grabbed my ankle and pulled hard. I fell and the grip tightened around my ankle. I kicked trying to release myself but more spider-like hands crawled all over my body, pulling, scratching, and pinning me down. I tried to crawl to the bell tower but instead, I was dragged away from it.

My last hope of safety was taken from me, something inside me snapped and I screamed and screamed…

“Well? What killed her?”

I looked up, confused. What was the chieftain doing here? Where were the horrors that held me prisoner just a moment ago? Why was it so much brighter now? I looked down and saw my corpse… no, not my corpse, I wasn’t a Watcher, I was a Seer.

“Fear,” I answered. “Fear so cold, so deep, it stopped her heart.” I tore my eyes off the poor Watcher’s body and looked for my apprentice. “My writing tools, quickly! I must write down her memories immediately and send them to the capital! We are all in grave danger.”

THE END


End file.
